In jungles of Asia, he is last hope for many MIA families

KHONG TROI MOUNTAIN, Vietnam - For the past 12 years, C. Elliott Moore II has camped in mosquito-, leech- and snake-infested sites across Southeast Asia, searching for a sliver of bone, a tooth, a dog tag - anything left of U.S. soldiers still missing nearly 30 years after the Vietnam War.

A forensic anthropologist with the military's Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command, Moore decides where to dig and for how long in conditions plagued by erosion, scavenging and even bone-eating acidic soil.

For the 1,800 American families who long for answers and a small piece of their loved ones to bury, he is often the last hope.

"Vietnam was the war of my generation. So many paid the ultimate sacrifice to come over here and wage war for American policy of that time and, of course, it wasn't a very happy ending," says Moore, 53, perched on a thick root overlooking an excavation site.

"This is just one way I can pay my dues."

Moore, who had a high draft number, volunteered to fight in Vietnam in 1968. But he was turned down when doctors realized he had only 10 percent of his hearing - his deafness the result of experimental antibiotics used to treat pneumonia as a baby.

The son of a doctor and a nurse, Moore yearned to do medical work. But he was rejected by medical schools, and forensic anthropology became the answer.

In 1992, after earning his doctorate, Moore joined the Hawaii-based team, which sends military personnel in search of remains from as far back as World War II. Anything recovered is sent to Oahu where experts, including Moore, work to match DNA to lost soldiers.

"He's something of a legend to everyone," says Sardiaa Plaud, a civilian at the lab. "Everywhere you go, people know him."

All of the easily accessible Vietnam War sites have been picked clean, yielding more than 700 identified sets of remains since 1973.

The remaining locations are daunting. Some are on 65-degree inclines that require searchers to strap themselves to trees and form bucket brigades, passing soil to be sifted through metal screens in search of bone fragments.

The site on the Laotian border in central Vietnam is at 1,800 feet, so high the villagers call it "Khong Troi" or mountain with no clouds.

"They always give the tough sites to Hoss," said Army Capt. Octave "Mac" MacDonald, the recovery team's leader from Baton Rouge, La., referring to Moore by his nickname.

"I think that's pretty much because he's the best."

Moore, of Stilwell, Kan., has worked hard to cultivate bonds with residents.

"To get along with your counterparts, no matter which culture you're in, you break bread with them, drink their whiskey and eat their food," he says, laughing.

He admits the months away from his wife, Ginny, their three children and six grandchildren aren't easy - especially since he's lucky to get home twice a year.

"It does get lonely, but then you've got to improvise, adapt and overcome," he says.

Moore says he gets immense satisfaction from helping return lost soldiers to their families, adding that his work also sends a message to soldiers in Iraq: No matter what happens, someone will bring them home.

But Moore says perhaps the biggest benefit comes from bandaging the wounds of war.

"It brings closure (to America) for part of the healing process," he said. "Eventually, we'll get the issue resolved and that chapter will be closed . . . hopefully."

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